Keep Walking
by Notsocoolio
Summary: Carl wakes from his coma to find the dead walking, his parents gone, and the world changed forever. Years after, Rick finds a familiar boy when he's stuck in a train car, and their changed fates collide again.
1. Chapter 1

" _Honey, I-I'm sorry. We have to go. I love you so much. Your dad loves you, and your mom loves you so much, too, sweetie. If-_ when _you wake up, You'll hate us. I know you will. But-but honey, you're strong. Smart. And you're gonna beat this world. I know it. So, please,_ please _wake up! I-I don't know how I could go on without you!"_

Carl gasped, and shot up.

"Mom! Where are you going?!" he croaked, before coughing and laying back down, closing his eyes at the harsh light.

He was thirsty. Horribly so. His throat was parched, dry and crusty, and his stomach was empty.

At the silence in the room, Carl was puzzled. He opened his eyes again, slowly, letting his eyes adjust, before sitting up and looking around.

"Mom?" Carl gasped, barely able to speak with the dry pain scratching at his throat.

He looked around the room, and, seeing a white hospital room, was quite scared. He remembered the last time he'd been in one of these.

He'd been sick. Really sick. They thought he might not even live, his mother had told him after he had woken up from surgery.

" _They weren't even sure you'd make it to the operating room. I knew you would. You're strong. Nothing will beat my boy."_

Carl had snuggled up against his mom after that, and she hadn't left his side until he left the hospital. Shane had had to drag his father away to work, as well. His dad, if he hadn't had to work, would've frequented Carl's side more than even his mother had.

But that was why Carl was so confused. Why wouldn't they be there?

And then the next thing hit Carl: why was _he_ there?

He couldn't remember for the life of him. It was infuriating, but he eventually gave up.

One last thing hit Carl: where's the nurse?

At that, everything came together. The power was off, his IV drip was nearly empty, and it was cold.

 _What is happening here?_

Carl sat up, wincing as he clutched his aching ribs, and pulled the IV out of his arm, slowly. The spot bled sluggishly as Carl carefully pulled off the rest of the medical equipment, deeming it useless since the heart monitor was off. Which, even more than him breaking out of the hospital, was weird.

He very slowly, and very, very carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. His legs were wobbly and weak for not having been used in such a long time, and he found he had a hard time even just standing.

Carl looked around the room more attentively this time, out of his previous daze, and saw a vase of wilting, dead flowers.

Carl thought the gesture was nice, from whoever left the flowers there (Shane, most likely), but thought it would have been nicer if they'd been there to take care of them. And him.

But Carl couldn't get caught up in that. He needed to find out what was happening, and being a dumb, curious kid wasn't getting him anywhere.

Curiosity killed the cat, right?

* * *

Carl ran from the hospital as far as his legs could take him.

 _Don't open, dead inside_

When Carl just couldn't take it anymore, he dropped. He just let his body fall to the ground, and curled up in the grass on the side of the road, just wishing for the nightmare to end.

When he heard shuffling and groaning, Carl ran again, against the pain in his ribs, against the weakness in his body, and the parched dryness of his throat.

Finally, Carl stopped for good. He leant over and puked, wiping his mouth. He shuffled a bit away from it, and then curled up on the ground again, hidden in the bushes. A few feet away from him, a mutilated corpse lay, grasping for the boy and groaning, but unable to move.

It was music to the boys ears. The first voice he'd heard of someone not trying to kill him. Well, at least unable to.

Carl chuckled at that, dehydration, pain, hunger forming hysteria in him and forcing out a laugh, that turned into pitiful sobs.

"Someone help! Please just help me!" Carl croaked, barely able to speak.

But no one came. Minutes turned into hours, hours into days, days in weeks, months, years, until his death. Eaten by one of those _things_.

He just wanted his mom and dad. And even though he knew he was being childish, he couldn't help it. He continued to sob, cry, and scream, curling into himself as the sobs shook his ribs and shot a sharp pain through them.

Eventually, his screams faded to sobs, faded to tears, and faded to silence. The groaning hadn't stopped, but it soothed Carl in a weird way.

If he just molded the lack of syllables into his mother's words, he almost felt at home in his bed, after a bad day at school.

Then, Carl stood up. He felt wholly better. Not just mentally, but physically, too. He didn't even feel hungry anymore.

Something tugged in Carl's mind that that might be bad, but Carl didn't care. He felt better.

Then, he saw something that matched his new, more optimistic, mood.

A bike.

* * *

Carl rode down the street of his neighborhood, knowing the way home like the back of his hand.

He stopped in front of his house. It didn't look dirty, or dusty, or broken like the hospital and some of the other houses he'd passed.

His house still looked alive, Carl thought. His parents would be there, waiting, right?

Carl walked up the lawn with a smile, but then he saw the open front door.

Without Carl's notice, his smile had faded.

He stepped inside.

And no one was there.

"Mom? Dad?" Carl croaked.

Silence greeted him, and Carl's smile fell off his face completely. He dashed through the living room, his parents room, the dining room, even the bathroom, before landing outside his bedroom door, never having been so scared to go into a room in his life.

Still, he opened the door and walked inside.

His room looked like how he'd left it. Whenever it was that he'd last left it.

But then Carl saw the hat on his bed. It was his dad's hat.

Carl picked it up gently, placing it on his head, holding in the tears threatening to spill over his eyes, if there were even enough left to truly cry.

He choked back a sob as a piece of paper fluttered from the bed. Carl leaned down to pick it up, holding his hat the way his dad always had.

On it, read:

" _Carl. I'm sorry. We love you, and we stayed as long as we could."_

And then the tears spilled, hitting the same spot as previous tears left on the paper.

 _But they hadn't stayed long enough_

* * *

Carl wandered aimlessly, walking along the sidewalk. Sometimes he saw the people, but he ignored them.

They didn't catch up.

Carl stopped. He was tired of walking.

If he had nothing left to walk for, then why not just sit?

So he did. He sat on the grass, curled his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them.

He sat, thinking.

 _Why had they left him?_

 _Why couldn't they stay?_

 _Why were those things there?_

 _Why does everything hurt so bad?_

He remembered, finally. But in a weird way, it wasn't surprising. It was like he knew what happened, even though he couldn't remember it. So when it finally came back, he wasn't surprised.

He had been hit by a car.

 _Lame._

And then a shovel came crashing onto his head.

* * *

"Wake up, kid."

Carl turned his head to the sound, opening his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the light.

"Dad?" Carl gasped out, his throat hurting again, along with his head.

"No, I'm sorry."

Carl opened his eyes all the way, and sat up. He was in a bed.

The room was tan, and next to the bed were two dark brown side tables that matched the bed frame. A man stood over Carl.

The man was nice looking, yet somehow intimidating, like a mother dog protecting her pups.

Carl turned his head to the pain in his wrist, and tugged at the zip tie holding his wrist to the bed.

"I'll let you go if you answer me one question: were you bit?" the man said, enunciating every word.

"By the people? No," Carl croaked. "Does it matter?"

"Do you not know, boy? They turn you into one of _them_."

Carl turned his head toward the man, suddenly intrigued. "What even are _them_?"

The man shook his head, "How do you not know?"

"I just woke up in the hospital this morning. My parents are gone, my neighborhood's empty, I'd like to know what's happening."

Morgan looked surprised, but he answered Carl's question. "They're dead. The 'people'. They will devour you if you let them, so you need to fight them, but they only die when you get to the brain. We call them 'walkers'."

"Why?"

"It's as good a name as any."

Carl was satisfied, and nodded his head. For whatever reason, that made sense to him. After what he had seen that day, it really matched up. He didn't know _why_ the dead were walking, groaning, shuffling, _dragging_ themselves towards any living meat, but for the moment, it worked for Carl.

"Duane? You can come out now."

A boy, about Carl's age, shuffled through the door. He stopped once he was in the room, and looked at Carl, guilty, before waving.

"He's my son, Duane. I'm Morgan. Now, I can tell you need some water…"

* * *

Carl had stayed with them for weeks, helping them find food, weapons, and supplies. In exchange, they helped him live.

Carl made a good friend in Duane, and Morgan was like Carl's father figure. Not to say Carl didn't miss his father, even if he did resent Rick for leaving him.

It was after about a month of staying in the same area that Morgan decided they needed to move. They were going to starve once food ran out, and it was starting to get cold.

So, Carl took them to his dad's old armory to get guns.

"How did you even know about this place, Carl?" Duane asked.

Carl smirked. "I told you, my dad was a cop."

"Well, you did good, kid," Morgan chuckled, looking at the guns held in the locker.

And that was how Carl got to where he is now, stuck in a tank, two dead friends, and no way out.

Duane was devoured by the horde, and then Morgan killed himself trying to save him. Carl was stuck in the tank alone.

He had a perfectly good gun, he might have a fighting chance, with how the horde is distracted, but Carl decided against it. Better to let them disperse.

 _Or…_

Carl crawled to the walker in the corner, checking its head, and pulled a knife out from his jacket.

Carl took a deep breath. And plunged the knife into the walkers stomach.

* * *

Carl was once again stuck walking. He had no place anymore, no drive to even be alive. He felt like he should be too young to think these things, but it was what was going through his head, and he couldn't stop it.

Carl hadn't had the chance to mourn yet, but now tears spilled over his dirty cheeks, and dripped off his chin onto the bloody clothes he had on.

He needed to change, but he couldn't be bothered.

Carl kept walking. It was the only thing that could keep him alive, if he even wanted that. But for now, it didn't matter.

" _You're strong."_

" _You can beat this world."_

" _I love you so much."_

"You can beat this world," Carl recited into the wind.


	2. Chapter 2

Keep walking. Keep walking.

The mantra repeated in Carl's mind, each step he took hurting him.

He wanted to sleep. He just wanted to keel over and sleep right on the pavement.

He couldn't, though.

" _You're gonna beat this world."_

His mother's voice wafted through his thoughts, and his heart surged.

Carl wanted to see his mother again. But he knew he wouldn't. He knew he'd never see his dad again, either. He'd lost his hope a long time ago.

Carl had long since shed himself of the clothes drenched in Morgan and Duane's blood, and it had been longer since he shed himself of the memory. But it had been a very short time since he last thought of it.

For a while, he hadn't had the time to dwell on things like memories. It was only live. To _live,_ meant to keep walking.

"One foot in front of the other," Carl hummed under his breath.

Once, he'd come across a highway. There had been supplies, and a message.

 _Sophia stay here we will come every day_

Had his parents left something like that for him? He'd thought that, but he knew they hadn't. Not to say that he hadn't forgiven his parents by then, but he was so sure that they thought he was dead.

But now he knows he was wrong, because _they_ were dead.

To Carl, it feels like he'd been walking for eternities.

He had no idea what day it was, what time it was, or even how old he was.

He wanted to know.

* * *

 _Terminus_

Carl almost smiled.

 _Sanctuary for all_

It'd been a long time since he'd seen a living person.

 _Community for all_

Carl didn't even know there were such thing as communities. He'd only ever seen people in small groups.

 _Those who arrive survive_

* * *

Carl felt a bit of hope. Mostly cold indifference as usual, but also some hope.

He also felt suspicion

Carl had met bad people. He'd met a lot of bad people.

Carl didn't want Terminus to be that same way.

There had to be hope somewhere, right?

The world can't just die, and no one good is left, right?

Carl didn't know, and he didn't want to think about it. He knew he was smart, so he'd be smart about this.

Sneaking in through the back would be smart, but they'd probably have heavy guards, so that would be unsafe. Going in the front would be dumb, but he'd be more likely to get in and then find a safe way out.

If they offer him food, politely decline. He'd been tricked before, and being knocked out where any walker could get him isn't good.

Also, though it was a bit more unlikely, Carl didn't want to eat walker meat. Or human meat most of all.

Carl felt better now, having planned everything out.

So he kept walking.

* * *

There it was.

 _Terminus_

Right in front of him.

"It does look safe," Carl mumbles, perched high in a tree, his backpack swinging underneath him on a branch.

The community had one big building in the middle, with the word "Terminus" Written on the windows. There were many smaller buildings and train cars littering the inside of the fence, and a few people mingled in between them, leaving what seemed to be some sort of barbecue.

The sun was going down, and if Carl didn't have to sleep in a tree, he would really prefer not to.

Carl shimmied down the tree, throwing his backpack down before inching his way down the trunk, surveying for walkers as he did so.

Carl's feet touched the ground, and he was off, walking carefully towards the entrance, making as little noise as possible, and making sure not to trip.

As Carl walked up to the entrance, his hand rested on his hip, where his knife was slipped under his belt.

A man stood at the entrance, holding a big gun Carl didn't know the name of.

"Hello?" Carl asked hesitantly.

"Oh hey! Didn't see you there!" the man said jovially.

"Well, you must not be a very good lookout then," Carl said sarcastically. "Terminus, right? Those who arrive survive?"

The man seemed a bit miffed at Carl's comment, but the slight scowl quickly morphed into a grin. "Yup! This is Terminus! Community for all."

The man pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke with the person on the either side briefly before motioning for Carl to follow, and walking inside.

"So how long you been out there, kid?" the man said suddenly.

"A long time," Carl spoke.

"You on your own?"

"Yes."

The man turned and gave him a weird look. "You killed anybody?"

Carl nodded, knowing the man was looking at him. "Lots of bad people."

The man nodded his head, and the looked forward, seemingly satisfied because it was silent.

Eventually, they made it to where a woman was standing before a barbecue, flipping some sort of strange meat.

Carl didn't want to eat it, even if his stomach was grumbling loudly.

"Oh, hello, you must be from outside," the woman said, smiling. "You're so thin. You must be hungry."

Carl wanted to shake his head, suspicion filling the pit of his stomach and overpowering the hunger. But, he decided, he would take the meat, and see what they did then.

So, he nodded, and when he saw the satisfied grins on their faces as he reached for the plate he knew there was no way he was eating the meat.

He recognized the smell.

Carl dropped the plate, and stomped on it, reaching for the lookout, and grabbed the man, putting his knife to the lookout's neck before the man could think.

"What is the meat?" Carl growled.

The woman looked surprised, "What do you mean?"

That tipped Carl over the edge, he dug the knife into the man he was holding's neck, a steady stream of blood trickling down. "What is the meat?! Human or walker?"

The woman smirked. "Human. How did you figure it out?"

"I've eaten it. Now get the fuck outta my way, I'm leaving," Carl growled, pushing his hat down onto his head with his free hand quickly, and before the man could spin around in Carl's grip, he was off, sprinting the same direction they came.

Gunshots hit behind his feet and he veered to the right, into an alley.

Carl ran into the building before anyone could follow.

As soon as he closed the door and turned around, he stopped.

The room was lit a shade of red, by the candles filling the room, all of which either lay on a shelf of some sort, or were scattered haphazardly on the floor. Words were written on the walls.

 _Never again_

 _We first, always_

Carl almost felt bad for them at that moment, already guessing what had happened.

But, ultimately, Carl didn't really care. He took off again, sprinting through the next door, but found it already surrounded.

Carl drew his knife again, ready to fight, when a voice sounded.

"Stop."

A man walked through the crowd. Carl thought he might have a chance to negotiate.

"Get him to the car."

He was wrong. Two big, burly men walked to Carl, but Carl slapped their hands away, and dug his knife into one's throat.

The other's hands gripped Carl's arms before Carl twisted around quickly as the man loosened his grip and dug the knife into his temple.

And then, darkness.

* * *

Carl awoke another minute later, orienting himself before being shoved violently into a train car.

Carl's head smacked on the metal floor of the car.

"Hey kid, you okay?" a quiet, gruff voice sounded from over him.

Carl startled, whipped his head up, and stood quickly, pulling a knife out of his boot.

"Who are you?" Carl said, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

But suddenly, an arm reached out and latched around his throat. Carl's hat fell to the floor.

"Who are _you_?" the voice sounded, deep and gravelly, but different from the gruff voice from before.

Carl nodded slowly, twisting a bit in the man's grip before answering, "My name's Carl."

The man froze for a second before loosening his grip and turning Carl around to look at him.

The man's face was familiar. Long, curly grey hair and beard held up with sharp cheekbones and dark, searching eyes.

"Carl?" the man whispered, and then looked at the ground to Carl's hat.

The man wrapped his arms around Carl in a tight hug, and then Carl recognized him.

"Carl!" the man sobbed.

Carl sunk into the man's arms and started to cry.

"Dad…!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Rick?" a voice sounded from behind Carl.

Rick slowly unhinged himself from his son and nodded, wiping his eyes. "This is my son, Carl."

Gasps sounded from around Carl, and he was shocked to how many he heard.

A kind-looking woman stepped up. "My name's Maggie. I'm a friend of your fathers."

Carl lifted his head from his father's chest, taking in the woman's features. He slowly nodded.

Everyone else started to introduce themselves. There were so many… Carl didn't know how they'd survived so long in such a big group.

Glenn, a handsome and hardened Asian man.

Abraham, a big Texan with a huge mustache.

Eugene, a cowardly looking geek.

Rosita, a powerful and beautiful woman.

Daryl, the dirty, gruff man who'd spoken first.

Sasha, a kind, but skeptical young woman.

Michonne, a hardened, but kind looking woman.

And Bob, a nice man with a faded and used, but kind smile.

Carl knew who of them was going to die.

* * *

Carl opened his eyes.

He was on his knees in front of a sleek, metal trough with a drain.

Carl looked around the room, tugging at the bonds holding his wrists together and his mouth closed.

He was in a big warehouse, with tan stone walls, and an operating table behind him, with a person sawing away at a corpse.

Carl almost wanted to gag. He'd seen worse things, but no one had ever been this resigned, this _used_ to these horrible acts.

At the very least, he'd never seen someone being quite so sophisticated doing something so barbaric.

Carl turned his head. Bob, Rick, Glenn, and Daryl were lined to his left. Two other men were on his right.

Suddenly, and hand came and yanked back the first man's head. A knife was slashed across the man's neck, and his body was dropped into the trough.

Carl looked up. He saw a familiar man from the crowd that'd caught him, as the man sliced the throat of the man directly next to Carl.

As the man yanked back Carl's head, and Carl let out a loud, deep growl, a voice sounded from behind them.

"Stop!" the regal man who had ordered Carl's capture said sternly.

The man dropped Carl's head harshly, and it hit the side of the trough, Carl's face almost dousing in the blood of the other two men.

"Rick, would you like to voice an opinion about what's happening?"

The earlier calm in Rick's demeanor had faded as the threat increased towards Carl.

Rick thrashed, muffled yelling coming from behind the cloth covering his mouth.

"Fine then, if you're not going to be civil about it, I'll move on," the man taunted, "You walked here with a duffle bag. You didn't come in with it. What did you do with it? What was in it?"

The man pulled down the cloth around Rick's mouth, and suddenly he was scarily calm again.

When Rick didn't speak, the man did, "Fine. We'll find it anyway. Just wanted to see if you'd make it easier on us."

The man reached for the cloth again, when Rick called, "Wait!"

"Yes?"

Rick stared into the man's eyes. "There were guns. AK-47, 44 magnum, automatic weapons, night scope, there's a compound bow, and... a machete with a red... red handle. That's what I'm going to use to kill you."

The man barked a laugh, and then ordered "continue" coldly to his men.

The man behind Carl yanked his head back again.

An explosion sounded.

"What was that?" the man who Rick threatened yelled. He pulled a walkie talkie out of his belt, and turned it on.

He spoke into the walkie talkie some, and then after no response, told his two men to continue, and left.

Carl saw his chance.

The man behind him reached for his head again, and Carl rammed his head back into the man's gut.

The man doubled over, and the corpse-sawing man rushed over, raising his fists.

The corpse-man reached out to grab Carl, and Carl swung his knee up into his jaw.

The corpse-man dropped, and Carl's momentum forced him down on top of the man, his tied hands skewing his balance.

The other man grabbed Carl and pulled him up harshly, rearing his fist back to punch Carl.

Carl leaned in and bit the man's nose crudely, blood splattering and staining Carl's teeth.

"Fucking kid!" the man barked, clutching his nose.

Carl turned, and, stretching his bonds, slammed his elbow into the man's already injured gut, and he went toppling to the ground.

Carl stood, panting for a moment, before turning to his stunned father.

He walked over and stuck his foot near Rick's hands, "Get the knife out of my sock."

Rick set to the task, digging his tied hands into Carl's boot, searching for the small knife.

"They didn't take it?" Glenn asked.

"They didn't have the chance to search me," Carl replied, "Stupid."

The rope snapped before Glenn could reply, and Rick set to cutting everyone else's binds.

Once the last bind was cut around Carl's wrists, he searched one of the passed out men for a walkie talkie. One of them had it. Carl turned it on, turned up the volume, and set it aside.

Carl flipped his knife open as the walkie started to talk. "There's walkers invading. Anyone, report?"

Carl plunged his knife into one man's head, and the stayed silent.

After a bit of no response, the person asked again, "Report?"

Carl executed the last man swiftly, and turned to his father's group.

* * *

Gunshots echoed in the close distance.

Carl ducked behind a car, following Rick's group.

People marched in front of the alley they were ducked into, holding guns and shooting continuously at the walkers before them.

Carl waited.

The people marched.

Carl still waited.

They passed in front of the mouth of the alley, and Carl dashed out, swiftly grabbing and executing the woman closest to him, and dragged her body back into the alleyway.

He ripped the gun out of her hand, and tossed it to Rick. He didn't know how to use one.

Rick cocked the gun and swept out of the alleyway.

Carl ducked behind a car and covered his ears.

Muffled shots ran out, and Rick dropped the gun.

Carl uncovered his ears, feeling slightly deaf at the loud, piercing noise, and rushed out to grab a gun off of the people his father had killed.

Carl picked the gun up, and tossed it to Glenn.

"Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

_Carl raced through the woods, dodging walkers and ducking underneath branches._

 _Carl's hat brushed off his head as it snagged on a branch, and Carl stopped in his tracks, grabbing it desperately off the ground, as he was surrounded by growling walkers._

 _Carl cried out as a walker fell onto him, its jaws clamping down on Carl's ear as he whipped his head away from its jaws, and he cries out more in fear than pain as the walker takes out a chunk of it  
_

 _Carl feels the blood pour down from his ear, and he flips around quickly underneath the walker, pushing its face away before digging his knife into the walker's temple._

 _The walker falls onto Carl, and rotted blood drips onto Carl's face from the walker's head._

 _Carl sits for a few seconds, panting, before he hears another walker come. To his surprise, the walker just passes him._

 _Carl thinks of the men he'd seen a while ago, covered deliberately in brown blood. Carl flipped himself over on top of the walker, but then he felt the sting in his ear._

 _Carl panicked for a moment, not knowing what to do, was he going to die?_

 _He forced himself to calm down, and cleaned his dirty knife on his shirt, wiping the rotted gore from the blade before lining it up against his ear._

 _He bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming as he carved the knife into his ear, cutting off the whole thing. Carl gagged as he saw his own severed ear fall to the ground._

 _He was losing a lot of blood and would probably needed stitches, but there wasn't anything he could do about it for the moment. He could already see the walkers that had ignored him before turning around._

 _He quickly took his backpack off, and found the bandages he kept in the front pocket. He wrapped the stub that was left of his ear around his forehead, then swung his backpack on again and picked up his knife._

 _He switched the blade around in his grip, and dug it into the walker's stomach, spilling the contents._

 _He gagged at the smell, and at the human remains he saw inside the monster's stomach._

 _He scooped the gore into his hand and smudged it against his torso, then scooped out more when he saw the walkers' interest him already start to dissipate._

 _He refused to smudge it on his face, but did streak some across his forehead, avoiding the tiny cuts from the branches that had smacked him while he was running through the woods._

 _He got up again, swaying a little from the pain and blood loss, before he set off, limping and grumbling like the walkers around him._

* * *

Carl groggily woke and rubbed his eyes. He stroked his thumb over the scar where his ear used to be, and sighed. The scar was ugly and jagged, having never healed properly, if there even was a way for it to.

He was lucky the walker hadn't bitten his face, and thanked any god out there that it'd only been his ear.

Carl turned around in his father's tight grip and looked at the people sleeping around him.

Carol, the woman that had saved them, was sleeping lightly next to Daryl.

The man called Father Gabriel that had brought them in was nowhere to been seen, and that's when Carl realized that Bob was missing, too.

Carl slipped out of his father's grip and grabbed his backpack and knife off of the floor in front of the door.

He slipped quietly out of the church, making sure that no one was awake and following him.

He looked for tracks from Bob, and found a nearly unnoticeable, especially in the dark, trail from what looked to be at least three people.

Carl followed the trail deep into the woods until he came upon a road.

He almost stopped, not seeing anymore tracks in front of him until he saw a light from the school across the road.

He snuck up to where the fire was, and saw three people that had been in Terminus. A brown haired woman, a dark colored man, and the leader.

The area was a small grassy area, the cement from in front of the door being surrounded by a short brick wall except for the entrance. The school was behind them, windows rattling, but it only amplified the noise around the area, and Carl feared walkers would come.

On the ground was Bob, screaming, blood seeping from his stump leg. He was causing a panic in the small Terminus group, and that's when Carl took his chance.

When the other two weren't paying attention, arguing with each other, he raced up behind the short brick wall behind them, and grabbed the brown haired woman. He dug his knife into her throat, to kill her vocal cords, and let her choke on her own blood.

Bob kept screaming, "Tainted meat! Tainted meat!"

Carl cringed at the cackling of a man finally sent over the edge, and jumped the leader.

He got on the man's back, toppling him over, and dug his knife into the back of the man's throat.

A bullet dug into Carl arm, and he swung his legs out to trip the other man.

The man fell hard, and Carl slashed his neck before he could retaliate.

Carl got back up, panting, and thanked the safety of Terminus for making these people weak.

He walked over to Bob, and rested a hand on the man's cheek to stop his manic giggling, "I'm here. It's Carl, Rick's son. I'm gonna get you back now, okay?"

Bob seemed to calm down and nodded, his shirt slipping down enough for Carl to see a bite mark.

Carl almost felt he should put the man down, but knew he owed it to his father's group to bring him back.

Carl attempted to pick up Bob, assuming he'd be light enough to carry without his leg, but Carl was wrong. He was still too heavy to carry, but Carl could drag him.

With Bob finally calmed down, Carl could hear the banging of walkers against the windows of the school house. He was worried they'd get out, but decided to ignore it for the moment.

He dragged Bob back to Father Gabriel's church as quickly as he could, noticing the sun coming up.

Carl heard Rick and his group arguing outside of the church.

"Rick, I know he's your son, but you haven't seen him in _years_. This world, it definitely changed him," Carol argued.

Sasha nodded in agreement, "Yeah, Rick. Carl _and_ Bob gone at the same time? It's not likely a coincidence."

"He's my _son_ —" Rick argued before he was cut off.

"Yeah, but do you really know him?" Maggie suggested gently.

Carl decided to cut in then, stepping out of the bushes, "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Carl dragged Bob out of the bushes, and Sasha gasped, pushing him out of the way and checking on him.

Sasha looked to Carl, "What happened?"

"I found a group people from Terminus. They were eating Bob's leg. I put them down."

Bob pushed Sasha away gently, nodding at Carl's statement, and pulled the collar of his shirt down, "I'm bit."

Sasha cried out and clutched Bob tightly. Carl stepped back to let her mourn.

Rick walked up to Carl and hugged him tightly, and Carl hugged him back.

Carol looked away, "I'm sorry."

Carl stepped away from Rick and looked at her, "It's fine."

"No, for more than that. I needed to make sure you were safe, before I could take you to Tyreese. I think you've proved yourself."

Sasha looked up, her eyes wet with tears, and voice hitched with sobs, "Tyreese?"

Carol nodded, a smile on her face, "There's also something else you might want to see."

* * *

They found Tyreese outside of a desolate, run down cabin.

"Oh, have I got a surprise for you," Tyreese says to Carl, a wide smile on his face.

He walks back into the cabin and comes out with an adorable blonde baby.

Rick rushes over and takes her from Tyreese gently, laughing as tears fall down his face.

Rick turns back to Carl holding the baby is his arms, rocking her gently, and says, "This is your baby sister, Judith."

Carl smiles, walks up to Rick, and reaches out to touch her, patting her head.

Rick passes Judith off to Carl, and teaches him how to hold her properly.

* * *

That night, in the church, Carl has a couple questions.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, son?" Rick responded, his full attention on Carl. He's been paying as much attention as possible to his boy, because he didn't get to before, and was lucky that he was there now.

"What happened to Mom?"

Carl asked quietly.

"She… she died. Maggie had to put her down, after she gave birth to Judith, so she wouldn't turn," Rick said quietly, obviously pained.

Carl was sad, but he didn't let it get to him. He had always known, just now it was real. It was sure.

His mother had always been gone, but now she was dead.

A tear slipped down his flushed face, a sob hitched in his throat, and he forced himself not to cry.

Even when his father embraced him again, even when his father sobbed into his shoulder, he kept his sorrow to himself.

He wasn't as sad as he should be, he knows, but the dark pit he felt in his chest was loss, and it just grew deeper with the sureness that supplied his mother's death. It opened gapingly wide, wider than it'd been before he'd found his father.

But he still wasn't sure he was sad.


	5. Chapter 5

While Father Gabriel lead Rick, Michonne, and Glenn to an old store to scavenge, Carl and Daryl went off together to check the area and scavenge, the rest staying behind with Bob.

Daryl and Carl were on the road with Daryl's motorcycle, when a black car with a white cross on the back window speeds past them.

"That's the car that took Bath!" Daryl yelled, and hopped on his bike, "Go back to the church!"

"Fuck that!" Carl exclaimed.

"Hop on, then," Daryl grunts, and Carl does as he's told.

Carl gets on the back of the bike and wraps his arms around Daryl's torso.

"Your dad's gonna be pissed."

Daryl shoots off in pursuit of the black vehicle, following the road.

* * *

They find themselves just outside of Atlanta, having lost the car and nearly surrounded by walkers, the motorcycle out of gas.

"Shit!" Carl cries.

He searches the surrounding area, and finds a solution.

"Daryl! Over here!" he shouts, and rushes to a dead walker leaning up against the roadblock.

Carl digs his knife into its throat, and wipes the seeping blood onto his shirt. He digs the knife in again, this time into the stomach, scooping rotted intestines over his clothes and wiping gore onto his face.

Daryl drops down next to him, and digs his hands in as well.

When they were fully covered, the walkers seemed to be sated, as if before they had been the black sheep of the group.

Carl scuttled after them slowly, passing over the bridge into the city.

Daryl followed, looking at him oddly, before acting out being a walker too.

When Daryl and Carl finally split from the group, Daryl asks, "Do you do this often?"

"Yeah. It's effective, gets you through hordes and people. I tried not to do it all the time, especially when I was in a group," Carl responds.

Daryl grunts, and was about to bash in a door of a building before Carl stopped him.

"Wait! We can just go into an alley and climb the fire escape. We can get in more quietly through a window, and get a good view of the city through the roof. And, even more than that, we wouldn't be breaking one of the ways that walkers can't get to us. They break bookcases and whatever else we would put in front of the door easier than the actual door," Carl suggests.

Daryl gestures for Carl to lead the way, and Carl walks down the street, finding an alleyway with a tall fire escape that leads to the roof. The alleyway was blocked with a fence, and Daryl seemed to look at Carl in a 'I knew I was right, don't correct me again,' kind of way.

Carl rolls his eyes, and throws his backpack over the fence, and hefted himself up and over the metal wire mesh easily.

Carl gestures for Daryl to hand him his bag, and asks, "Do you need help?"

Daryl snorts, and get up and over the fence without even taking his backpack off.

Carl gathers his backpack and climbs the fire escape quickly, Daryl lagging slightly behind.

When Carl gets to the top, he helps a panting Daryl to stand up on the roof, then crouches down to dig around in his backpack.

He pulls out a pair of binoculars, and Carl hands them to Daryl.

"You know more about what we're looking for," he says.

Daryl take the binoculars, nodding in thanks to Carl, "Why you got binoculars anyway?"

Carl shrugged, "I spend the nights in trees or on rooftops, so binoculars come in handy to see if the going is clear, or when I'm on an open road, to see if a horde is coming through."

Daryl nods, "Smart," he grunts, before peering in closer with the binoculars, "I think I see the car at the hospital."

"That'd be a smart place to shack up. She's probably there, but we need to move through the buildings, not on the streets," Carl notes.

Daryl nods, and they start back down the fire escape, and find a window to slip into.

* * *

"I'm sorry, I didn't wanna hurt anybody," Noah begs from underneath the bookcase as Daryl takes back his crossbow.

Noah was a kid they found that tricked them and stole their stuff, and now Carl and Daryl were getting revenge.

" _Please,_ help me!" Noah begs again.

Carl turns and walks away, but sees Daryl stop and stare at Noah's small, pained form trapped beneath the bookcase.

Carl sighs as Daryl helps Noah up, and reaches his hand out to hold Daryl's crossbow for him.

"I'm not helping," Carl says, shrugging the strap to Daryl's crossbow over his shoulder.

"Don't expect ya to," Daryl grunts.

They make their way outside, finally nearing their destination, when Carl stops, and says, "Wait. I'm gonna check the road," and passes Daryl's crossbow back to him.

Carl checks the road from the sidewalk first, and then steps slowly into the street, checking both ways, before noticing something in the distance. Something moving slowly towards them.

Carl was about to turn back and warn them, before he heard the _screech_ of tires, and felt a crushing pain in his side.

The world turned black.

* * *

Beth sighed as another person was rushed into the hospital, but gasped as she saw—it was a boy, just a little younger than she was.

She was forced away from the scene to change another patient's bandages, but she wasn't going to let another kid be stuck in this horrible place like she was.

When the sky outside turned dark and everyone else slunk away to their rooms and sleep, Beth slipped out out of her room and rushed out to the room they had the rolled the boy to.

She opened the door and slid in, turning around to close the door quietly.

An arm reached around her neck, and a scalpel was pressed against her throat, purposely threatening in its presence.

"Where am I?!" The boy's voice hissed in Beth's ear.

Beth took a deep, shaky breath, understanding his motive but not enjoying the action, and said, "Grady Memorial Hospital. I'm Beth, and I'm going to try to get you out of here."

The boy's grip didn't lessen, but his voice was slightly lighter as he spoke, "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm stuck here just like you are! They stole me away from my group, and now they expect me to accept it, as if it were _normal_ , as if they _saved my life_ ," Beth stressed, "But they didn't. My group did, and if I never get back, I'll never make it up to them."

The boy could hear the truth in her voice, and chose to go along with her. He didn't trust her, but he knew she wasn't a threat, so he loosened his grip around her throat and let her go.

Beth rubbed her neck gratefully, "Thank you."

The boy nodded, and looked away, "How are we getting out of here anyway?"

Beth turned to the boy, and finally got a good look at him. Brown, slightly curly hair, blue eyes, and blemished, dirty skin. She noticed the hair hanging loose on one side of his head, and felt bad for him. She wondered how he lost the ear, but didn't feel inclined to ask the unfamiliar boy.

"There's an elevator shaft that leads to the bottom floor. A bunch of bodies on the bottom, but none are living. They never go down there, and there's a mostly clean shot to the street. I've tried it once and got out, but we went during the day, and weren't very quiet about it. The other person got out, I was forced to stay."

"Won't they be watching you?" The boy asked.

Beth nodded, "They are. Everyone's keeping an eye on everyone, so we'll have to wait a while. Couple days, maybe."

The boy nodded, contemplating.

Beth didn't mention that she'd have to steal the keys to the hallway to the elevator, but she didn't think he'd care about that. It was her job.

"You should lay back down. Do you need any painkillers?" Beth asked.

The boy shook his head and climbed back into the hospital bed, "My name's Carl, by the way."

Beth smiled as she opened the door, and turned to look at him, "Well, good night, Carl."


	6. Chapter 6

Beth shrieks as Dawn smacks her across the face, and grips her cheek as she turns her face back up to glare harshly at the woman.

Dr. Edwards stands to the side worriedly, but not doing anything as Dawn walks off again. Beth got the message.

Just two days after her attempted mistake, she already gets herself into more trouble.

Visiting Carl after lights were out was against the rules, and Dawn had to punish her for it, so she did.

Beth hated that woman.

"The boy is doing fine," Dr. Edwards says to Beth.

Beth nods, still seething under her skin, "I need to get out of here!"

"I wouldn't try that again if I were you," Dr. Edwards suggests.

Beth looks over to the man and smirks, "What, would you tell on me?"

Dr. Edwards shakes his head, smiling, "No, but you wouldn't be safe. You got caught once, it'll happen again."

Beth nods, contemplative but set in her mind, and walks off to help somebody.

* * *

Two days later, Beth is handing an old man some oranges in exchange for a distraction to sneak into Dawn's office.

She slips down the hall to Dawn's office quickly, pulling the door open and slipping in silently.

Beth looks around the dark, lonely room, and spots a picture on a filing cabinet.

Dawn stood smiling next to another police officer Beth didn't recognize, and she knew he was most likely dead.

Beth stoops down to rustle around in the drawers of the desk next to the cabinet, and finds the key in the bottom drawer.

She tucks it into her pocket and closes the drawer before the door opens, and Gorman steps in.

"Hey, what are you doing in here?" Gorman asks suspiciously, and steps too close to her.

Beth's vision goes red as she remembers his attack, and she swipes the picture off the filing cabinet and smashes it into the man's head.

The glass shatters and digs into Gorman's skull, and he groans and falls to his knees.

He's back up fast, faster than Beth can get out of the room, and grabs her ankle, making her fall to the ground.

Gorman pushes her into the ground as he climbs on top of her, and her hands rustle on the ground, searching for glass, as she glares into the man's eyes.

"You shouldn't've done that," Gorman growls, and presses his body into hers, raising a fist up high.

Before it can connect, Beth's hand catches a large piece of glass and she stabs it into the man's eye.

She pushes it in further and further, with no regards for the state of her own hands, and the knife digs back into Gorman's brain before he can he scream.

Gorman drops, falling onto Beth, and she drags herself out from under the man's heavy body.

Beth gasps deep breaths, leaning over onto her knees and huffing out air, exhausted.

Eventually, she wipes her cheek of a spot of blood, and stands up.

She checks her pockets for the keys, and opens the office door, checking for anyone outside, and dashes off to find Carl.

* * *

By the time Beth found Carl, the lights were already out, and the boy was ready to go.

Beth sat down on the boy's hospital bed and patted the spot next to her.

"Sit down. We're gonna have to wait a minute," Beth said.

Carl stepped over the pile of sheets they had tied like a rope, and sat down next to Beth.

Beth looked at the door and smiled, "So tell me a little about yourself."

"You first," Carl grunts.

"Fine. I grew up on a farm with my mom and daddy, and my siblings. My mom and my brother Shawn died at the beginning. Me and my family, well, we just thought they were sick, you know? But then this group came along and killed all the walkers we were keeping in the barn. They opened our eyes," Beth tells.

Carl pauses for a moment, before speaking, "You're the girl we were looking for, aren't you?"

"What?" Beth says, turning to him.

"Daryl. He was looking for you."

"You know Daryl?"

Carl nods, and looks down, "He was in a group with my dad and these other people."

Beth stared at him for a moment, before gasping in realization, "You're Rick's son, aren't you?"

Carl nodded.

"He never stopped talking about you! When he was sad, he'd pull out this picture of you, and stare at it. He liked to show people, too," Beth told him, smiling brightly.

Carl looked at her incredulously, "Really?"

Beth nodded fervently, "After your mom… died, well, Rick, he'd just sit there. Everyday, depressed. He still lead us, but his decisions were mean and controlling. He got better eventually… but not much."

Carl was silent for a while. He didn't speak when Beth told him they needed to go, and didn't make a sound as they descended onto the pile of corpses at the bottom of the elevator.

They sped quietly through the dark corridors of the bottom floor of the hospital, dodging a few walkers, before finding their way outside.

They flickled their flashlights off, but before they could go outside, Carl stopped Beth.

"We need to hide, there's walkers out there," Carl whispered, and then knelt down to a walker that was leaned against the side of the door.

"What?" Beth whispered back.

"We need to hide," Carl grunted impatiently, and pulled a knife out of his hospital clothes.

Beth stared at the boy's hand for a second, snapping out of it as he dug the knife into the walker's stomach.

"Where did you get that?" Beth asked suspiciously.

Carl just dragged the knife through the walkers stomach and stated, "I swiped it from the cafeteria."

"There aren't any in the cafeteria," Beth said.

"Fine. I snuck into the kitchens last night," Carl sighed, as he scooped the walkers guts and lathered them onto his clothes.

"How—what are you doing?!" Beth spluttered, disgusted.

Carl looked at her as if it was obvious, "This is how you hide from walkers."

Beth gagged, but leaned down and scooped some onto her clothes when Carl motioned her to, nearly puking at the smell, and the thought that she was willingly rubbing it on herself.

Finally, Carl deemed it safe enough to leave the hospital, and they opened the door slowly and quietly.

Beth slipped out first, so Carl could watch her back, and because Beth insisted the eldest should go first.

They trudged through the walker herd, Carl insisting they move like the walkers did and keep their heads down, so nobody on watch noticed them leaving.

They slip through a hole in the fence that blocks the hospital off from the normal streets, and finally Beth is free. She rejoices in not having to deal with Dawn's abuse or Dr. Edwards cowardice.

She would only slightly miss him, and even then she didn't care. She'd give anything to get out, and she finally was.


End file.
